Page 14 of Born into Madness
“Good boy,” I tell him when we pass near a group of drunk women. One stumbles out in front of Chort, but all he does is sidestep around her and continue on at my side. He lifts his head at my praise and takes the ear scratch I give him before I find Pasha in one of the corner booths.
Pasha and Isaak work The Red Room for us. They sell pills, our most popular one being Adderall to help these little fucks study, but Molly is always a bestseller, showing there’s a definite balance between work and play. Business is always booming. Our sellers have a reputation for delivering a clean product. None of our shit is laced with fentanyl, and we don’t sell roofies.
“Hey, Sasha,” Pasha says when I slide into the booth across from him. Chort sits beside me but keeps his focus on the crowd around us.
Pasha’s blond head turns to my dog, but then he quickly looks away.
Sticking to Russian, I ask, “Any more issues?”
“No, it’s been quiet. So far word hasn’t gotten out that a few girls have been drugged here, so business hasn’t slowed down. Finals are around the corner, which means the Adderall sales will skyrocket, and then once that’s done, Molly and Special K will be in high demand.” He grins. “And on and on it goes.”
I look around the club, trying to understand the appeal. A loss of control is not something I can handle, so alcohol and drugs have never held any appeal to me. I let my steam off in other ways, ways that involve sharp blades and lots of blood.
The song changes, another upbeat tune that I’d never choose to listen to on my own. The women letting loose on the dance floor squeal and clap their hands when they recognize it and then start singing along. A few men have joined them while others lean against the bar and watch. I eye them, wondering if any of them are planning on slipping a pill into someone’s drinktonight. I’d be more than happy to take them out if they do, but I’m guessing there won’t be another hit until the weekend.
While I’m looking around, I accidentally make eye contact with a brunette in the corner. I quickly look away, but not before I see her take a step towards me.
I don’t understand women. I’ve never once made any sort of attempt to get close to any of them, and while most of them are scared to death of me, there are always a few that feel drawn to whatever darkness I have inside me. The woman walking towards me obviously belongs to the latter group.
When she’s a few feet away, Chort gives a warning growl that has her freezing in place. I ignore her when she gives a giggle, but it’s not enough to make her walk away. Instead, she says, “Cute dog. Can I pet him?”
“No,” I say without looking at her.
“Why not?”
Her pouty tone has me lifting my eyes to her. “Because I don’t want you to.”
I assume this will be the end of the conversation, so I turn back to Pasha. Before I can say anything, she cuts in and asks, “Well, can I buy you a drink then? Maybe once you get to know me, you’ll change your mind about letting me pet your dog.”
“I don’t drink,” I tell her. When she still doesn’t leave, I switch to Russian and ask Pasha, “Why is she still here?”
Pasha tries to hide his smile. “She’s hoping you’ll fuck her,” he says, getting right to the point and explaining it in a way I’ll understand.
Well, that’s easy enough to fix. I turn my gaze back to hers. “I don’t want to fuck you, and if you go anywhere near my dog, he’ll rip your throat out.”
She looks stunned, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I didn’t yell. I didn’t even get angry, even though she’s the one who barged into my space and started asking about my dog.She’s the uninvited one here, not me. All I did was set the record straight.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she mutters before turning and walking off.
“How does that make me an asshole?” I ask Pasha. “Just because I don’t want to fuck her, that makes me an asshole? What kind of entitled bullshit is that?”
Pasha covers his laugh by taking a drink. When he’s finished, he says, “Do you really want an answer to that?”
“Yes,” I say, genuinely confused. Usually I’d ask one of my cousins to explain this, but I’ve known Pasha for years, and I trust him to tell me the truth.
“Women prefer a softer touch,” he says as gently as he can. “It’s not so much that you didn’t want to fuck her, it’s more that you just came right out and said it. It didn’t help that you threw in the image of Chort ripping her throat out.”
“That was me being nice by warning her,” I say. “Wouldn’t it have been meaner to let her pet him? He would’ve bitten her hand off.”
“Well, yeah, that wouldn’t have been good,” Pasha agrees, “but maybe next time don’t come right out with the wholeI don’t want to fuck youthing.”
I think about what he’s said and then shake my head. “If I don’t say it, then they don’t leave. I’d rather piss them off than have to put up with their company.”
Pasha grins and takes another drink. “Man, most guys would kill to have the amount of pussy you turn away.”
“Well, I’m turning them away, so they’re welcome to them.” I look across the club and see the woman I’d apparently offended. She’s surrounded by her female friends, and judging by the way her mouth is working, she’s giving them an earful about what an asshole I am. I watch as one of the guys at the bar takes notice and slowly starts to make his way over.
“Well, you just set him up for the night,” Pasha says, following my line of sight and watching the scene play out. “She’s pissed at you, and now he gets to come in and play the hero, be the compassionate guy that makes her feel all better. She’ll fuck him just to spite you. Win-win.”
